


Better On Paper

by adjectivebear (HealerAriel)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Ficlet, Gen, Modern Thedas AU, Professor!Solas, Scenery Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 16:09:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5592649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HealerAriel/pseuds/adjectivebear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Solas’s friend, the best-selling author Varric Tethras, comes for a visit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better On Paper

Varric Tethras threw his head back and laughed. “Shit, Chuckles. This is  _exactly_ how I pictured your house.”

“I’m not sure whether I’m meant to be pleased or insulted,” Solas said, quickly ushering the dwarf inside and closing the heavy wooden door against the winter chill.

“Eh. Neither, really,” Varric continued, shedding his coat and gloves in the foyer, all the while studying the interior with the keen eye of an artist. “But, come on: a reclusive sage living way the crap out in the woods in a stone cottage so overgrown it looks like it came right out of the ground? That sounds like something _I_ would write.”

“The fiction would likely be far more interesting than the reality, I’m afraid,” Solas said with a smile. He had met Varric some four years prior when the novelist had come to the university to seek aid in researching his latest literary venture.

_“I was under the impression that you were well acquainted with a colleague of mine at the University of Kirkwall,” Solas said._

_Varric grinned. “I am, and believe me, when it comes to the last few ages of elven history, she’s my go-to girl. But I’m interested in_ ancient _history, and word in the academic community is you’re the guy for that. My next novel is a thriller set in Arlathan, and I want it to be as accurate as possible.”_

_Solas raised an eyebrow. “Ambitious, given how few records they left behind.”_

_Varric laughed. “Yeah, well. The historical fiction label covers a lot of sins, but I strive for authenticity, anyway.”_

The two had become friends over the course of Varric’s research, and the novel had been a runaway hit, which Solas strongly suspected to be the cause of the dramatic spike in enrollments in his ancient history lectures these past few semesters. Now that Varric had begun working on the hotly anticipated sequel, he’d flown in from Kirkwall for a refresher on ancient Elvhenan, as well as a visit.

Varric ran his hand along the rough stone mantlepiece above the crackling fire. “ _Bigger_ place than I expected.”

Solas bit back the urge to remind his friend that he was not a character to be analyzed. Instead, he said, “Yes. It’s been in my family for some time. I inherited it shortly before I began teaching at the university.”

The cottage had previously belonged to a second or third cousin, whose knack for interior design accounted for the bulk of the furnishings. To date, Solas’s only major contributions to the house—apart from the floor-to-ceiling frescoes he painted when he was either particularly inspired or particularly bored—were the rows upon rows of bookshelves lining the walls and the brand new Wyvern computer occupying the rustic wooden desk in the far corner of the living room. He had never needed much, and in truth, he rather liked the house as it was: simple, comfortable, and private.

“So, is there any potential Mrs. Chuckles in the picture these days?”

Solas let out a surprised laugh. “Are you implying that I’m too old to remain a bachelor, Varric?”

“Nah, it’s not that. But look at this place,” Varric said, gesturing toward the southern windows, beyond which the setting sun illuminated dense woods as far as the eye could see. “Don’t you get lonely out here?”

“Of course, occasionally. Are you never lonely in the city?”

Varric put his hands up. “Alright, you got me.” He took a seat on the overstuffed leather couch across from the fireplace. “Anyway, this next book…”


End file.
